


Skeletons

by orphan_account



Category: Gone Series - Michael Grant
Genre: Hate Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:48:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drake picks up where Astrid left off and Sam returns the favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skeletons

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during Fear; however, no major spoilers.

I.  
Maybe a tiny part of Sam knew it was wrong. Maybe a tiny part of Sam even _cared_.

Sam laughed bitterly. He was long past caring.

Slowly, gingerly, deliberately, Sam extricated himself from Astrid's long, pale arms. A tiny part of him did feel bad for leaving the girl here. But a larger part of him didn't. If Astrid hadn't felt bad for abandoning him in his darkest times, he had every right to abandon her, _just because_ the going was good. 

He gave her the perfunctory kiss on the forehead and was glad when she didn't stir. All the easier for him.

II.  
He crept off of the White House boat with unprecedented stealth. Not even a rock or creak of the deck as he walked to the edge and took a graceful dive into the lake. 

Sam swam to the lake's edge quietly, knowing that the less conspicuous he was, the better. True, Sam could play the hero. Sam could be the sickening martyr for the cause who sought out Drake instead of letting Drake bring the party to Lake Tramonto. If only.

Sooner rather than later Sam was hauling himself onto the mud-covered bank, spitting out fragments of grass and leaves before flipping over on his back, laying there, collecting his thoughts. What the hell was he doing? Sneaking out in the middle of the night, leaving everyone in Lake Tramonto vulnerable? And all for what? A piece of ass?

 _Well_ , Sam decided, gritting his teeth. _At least Drake will be distracted._

III.  
"Louder," Drake commanded.

Sam's hips lifted off of the cave floor, trying to get into a position where Drake would have no choice but to fuck him and get it over with it. More importantly, Sam wouldn't have sink to screaming out Drake's name. 

Of course, Drake knew all of Sam's dirty and not-so-dirty tricks. Drake pulled out completely, and his lips curled into a sinister smile as Sam whined from the loss of contact.

"Drake," Sam whimpered. Sam tried to scoot closer to Drake so that they were at least touching. Drake was close. Sam could hear it in his voice. It was in the stretch and crack of his timbre, the way the filth of his words faltered at the slightest buck.

Unfortunately for Sam, however, Drake wasn't in a particularly generous mood. Time pinch because of Brittney be damned.

"No, no, no, Sammy boy," Drake snarled, his tentacle wrapping around Sam's neck with lightning speed. He wrench Sam closer, but only close enough that his breath was a ghost on Sam's lips.

"I want to hear you beg," Drake growled.

Sam's eyes fluttered shut as Drake teased him at his entrance. Sam's words were pants, whispers, mumbles. Not good enough. The tentacle squeezed tighter. 

"Say it."

Without warning, Drake pushed in deep. Sam cried out.

"Say my name."

"Drake." 

The sound escaped Sam's lips like a prayer as Drake pulled out and pushed back in.

"Say my name again."

Sam looked into Drake's cold, dead eyes. The only noticeable difference was that they were glazed over, in the dim lantern glow, with pure, animal lust. Sam was slightly grateful that Drake had spared him the whipping tonight. It had become increasingly more difficult to explain to Astrid the red, smarting welts and scars that that ran up and down Sam's body. Although Sam missed the electric snap of Drake's tentacle against his skin terribly.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," Drake chided, slowly and ostentatiously pulling out again. He was honestly enjoying the look of confusion and guilt on Sam's face too much to rush things tonight. Sam had been full of so much courage and dignity and pride and virtue, and he still was full of these things. Just less full. More empty. Drake was working on it.

"How do you expect me to do anything for _you_ when you don't want to do anything for _me_?" 

Drake's hand gripped Sam's thigh. Sam whimpered again, watching as Drake's hand made its ascent up Sam's leg, past Sam's hipbone, up Sam's chest. Drake flicked a nipple and Sam jerked beneath him. Drake smiled.

"It's so easy Sammy boy. Just say it. Say my name. Beg me. Let's try this once more, shall we?"

Drake positioned himself above Sam. Sam looked up at Drake, his cheeks flushed as he bit his lip. Uncertain.

Drake unfurled his tentacle from Sam's neck and instead pulled Sam in for a blistering kiss. All tongue and teeth and blood. No commitment, no strings attached. Only the promise of a good fuck.

No feelings, no emotions. No baggage. Never a struggle.

Drake rolled Sam's nipple between his fingers and Sam arched off of the cave floor yet again. Drake broke the kiss, panting, kissing down Sam's jawline until he reached the base of Sam's neck. Drake attacked Sam's neck, nipping and biting and sucking until there were dark marks that Sam would have to explain to Astrid. 

It was worth it.

Sam's hands found Drake's shoulders and pushed him away. Drake looked up at Sam, curiously, wickedly, a dark glint in his eyes. He bit Sam again before sitting up.

"Yes?"

"Please?"

"Please what?" Drake goaded in a sing-song voice.

"Please, Drake."

Sam was begging with his eyes alone, and Drake wanted to take him right then and there, but that wasn't apart of the game. That wasn't any fun.

Drake's fingers slid down Sam's front before pausing, stopping just where Sam needed it most. Sam's breathing suddenly got a lot more shallow.

Sam ceased breathing when Drake wrapped his human hand around Sam's length and gave him slow, tortuous stroke. Nothing had been music more to Drake's ears than Sam's low, breathy moan of satisfaction.

Sam didn't even feel embarrassed or ashamed at this point. He could barely string a sentence together. He could barely breathe.

Drake stroked him again before leaning in to kiss Sam; however, Sam found it within himself to push Drake away.

"Please, Drake," Sam begged. "Please. Fuck me."

Drake slid Sam closer to him, stealing a quick peck on the lips before he grabbed Sam's hands with his tentacle and bound them above him. Sam looked so innocent, so needy, so vulnerable. So delicious.

"'Please, Drake, fuck me,'" Drake mimicked before thrusting himself in to the very hilt.

"Oh!" Sam yelled, fingers flexing uselessly above him. He wanted to hold something, to grab something, to find the smooth expanse of Drake's back and demolish it. Drake chuckled before thrusting in all the way again. Sam screamed.

"That's it, Sammy boy. Scream for me," Drake said enthusiastically, proceeding to fuck Sam like an animal.

"Drake," Sam panted, 

"Drake," Sam yelled.

Drake,

Drake,

 _Drake,_

Drake, 

Drakedrakedrakeohfuckdrake _ohmyGod_.

Drake gave a particular violent thrust into Sam as Sam came. He leaned down to catch Sam's lips with his own. "I am your God now."

Drake came shortly after.

IV.  
They both lay there, on the cavern floor, together, a mess of legs and sweat and hair.

Finally, Drake pushed Sam away. 

"Put your clothes on, whore."

Sam rolled over to face Drake, Drake's tentacle suction-cupped to Sam's hipbone.

Drake was trying to look authoritative and commanding but he wasn't doing a good job of it. 

Sam reached out to touch Drake's face but Drake slapped his hand away.

Sam pouted and Drake narrowed his eyes.

"Listen here, Sammy. If I wanted to talk about my feelings, then..." Drake paused before giving Sam a tight smile. "Well, I don't have feelings."

Sam shook his head sadly. "Fine, you don't have any feelings. But you're only human. You've got hopes and fears and dreams like everyone else."

Drake felt his chest tighten, and he dealt with the rush of emotion the only way he knew how. He grabbed a fistful of Sam's hair and Sam cried out in pain. _What a turn on._

"Number one," Drake started. He sat up and brought Sam up with him. "I am not only human. The Gaiaphage--" Drake shook his head, smiling tightly once more. "That's between us."

He drew his tentacle in close to him, waving the tip in front of Sam's face before giving Sam a couple of experimental lashes across Sam's chest. Drake was delighted to find that Sam still made all the same sounds. Delicious.

"Number two." Drake crushed his lips against Sam's. "I don't have hopes or fears or dreams. And if I do, hell forbid, they all look the same to me."

He shoved Sam down, and couldn't resist watching Sam scramble in the dark, body illuminated by the lantern, trying desperately to find clothes that were hopefully now dry. He could resist admiring the curve of Sam's taut, tanned ass, and the curtain of unkempt, unruly dark hair that was very tousled after tonight's exploits and endeavors.

And exploit Sam he did.

Drake didn't feel bad about it. No feelings, no emotions. No baggage. No struggle. Only the promise of a good fuck. 

Maybe a tiny part of Drake knew it was wrong. Maybe a tiny part of Drake even _cared_.

Drake laughed. Cared? 

Good one.

Just like everyone else who lived in this jungle called the FAYZ, he was long past caring.

V.  
Sam crawled back to Astrid on hands and knees. He crawled out of the cavern.

He crawled down the side of the cliff.

He crawled down the banks of the lake.

He climbed up the side of the White House boat and he crawled into bed.

Drake liked to think it was because Sam couldn't walk.

Astrid tossed a bit and turned before resting her face in the crook of Sam's bruised and discolored neck. Sam winced.

Messed up as it was, he was praying for Drake as well as gunning for the boy. Love-hate thing.

Sam yawned. Lazily, he wrapped his arm around Astrid and finally fell asleep.


End file.
